Gearhead
by Black Joe Lewis
Summary: Commander John Shepard is a combat engineer. His unique skillset and impressive military background have landed him a job as Chief Engineer on the experimental ship SSV Normandy. The course of his life will be altered, though, as he unravels a plot one billion years in the making. - Note that this story assumes you have a working knowledge of ME1.
1. Chapter 1 - Gears In Motion

**Chapter 1 – Gears In Motion**

**_Alliance Navy Fleet Construction Facility 01, in geosynchronous orbit around Earth_**

**_1622 hours, 25.4.2183, Terran Coordinated Universal Time_**

"Lieutenant Commander Shepard, SID number 5923-AC-2826, please report to the office of Captain Anderson immediately." A man clad in a greasy Alliance Navy engineer uniform groaned in response to the intercom.

A similarly dressed, similarly dirty man smirked and said, "Another meeting with the boss, huh, L-C?"

Shepard glanced toward the subordinate, shooting him a look of annoyance.

"Guess so. You have the secondary barrier power coupling locked down, Adams? I should go."

Mouth now cracked into a full smile, the sailor responded, "Yes sir. I'll have diagnostics running before you're shaking hands with the big man. Good luck up there, sir."

"Thanks. Get to it, Master Chief." Shepard returned the salute he was given and strode towards the elevator at the opposite end of the room. Despite being Chief Engineer on the most advanced warship in the galaxy, Shepard was far from excited. The Alliance brass always had some asinine new inquiry about this damn boat, and the questions always came through its captain, Captain David Anderson. It wasn't that he disliked the Captain of the Normandy SR-1; no, in fact, he respected Anderson immensely.

Anderson was the first officer who befriended Shepard during his first assignment out of basic. Anderson had vouched for him when Shepard expressed interest in attending the Interplanetary Combatives Academy for N training, becoming the first combat engineer to reach the prestigious ranks of the elite N7. Anderson was also the one who pulled strings for Shepard's transfer back to a posting in Systems Alliance space after the disaster of the Skyllian Blitz.

Anderson was more than a mentor and magnanimous superior officer to Shepard. He was Shepard's closest friend. Still, being constantly called away from his work to discuss "official Alliance business" with the man irritated the LCDR to no end. Shepard was never incredibly pleased about the amount of politics that went into running an interstellar fleet of warships, despite consciously knowing how necessary it was; it was just that in this particular scenario that the brass was really busting his chops.

The Normandy SR-1 was an incredible piece of technology. Attempting to relieve some of the intra-species hostility created by the First Contact War, the Turian Hierarchy proposed to co-develop an advanced stealth frigate with the human Systems Alliance. The best and brightest minds in the militaries of both species put in millions of man-hours over several years to design the magnificently sleek starship that Shepard was now assigned to. She was almost ready to fly, too, and once she did, the accomplished LCDR would be accompanying her wherever she went, tending to her FTL and sub-light engines, overseeing the engineering and maintenance staff and other such duties that fell under his assignment of Chief Engineer.

The more Shepard thought about his job, the more he forgot about the meeting he was heading to. He loved starships, and the Normandy was the pinnacle of starship design and technology. As a boy growing up on the then-new Arcturus Station, he would gaze in wonder as human ships of all shapes and sizes drifted silently by the observation lounge windows. Everything from small, "planet-hopper" shuttles to massive Alliance dreadnoughts could be seen passing by the seat of the Systems Alliance government and fleets. He had made his decision to become an engineer for the navy back then, and he was now actually living his dream.

Shepard's musings were cut short as he approached the door to the office and quarters of the Normandy's captain. He pressed the visitor alert button on the bulkhead adjacent to the door and waited. Even as the door slid open with a quiet _whir, _the decorated officer and dear friend of Shepard's was rising to meet him.

"Lieutenant Commander, thanks for coming at such short notice," Anderson said, returning a salute from his Chief Engineer.

"Of course, sir. What does the brass need to know this time?"

The Captain's expression quickly turned from jovial to somber. Shepard knew he wouldn't like what he was about to be told.

"No questions this time, Shepard. The Alliance and Turian Hierarchy say that they want this tub ready to go, immediately. They've given us our first assignment, straight from the Citadel Council."

The LC's eyebrows arched in surprise at the mention of the Council's involvement. "Orders from the Council, sir? We haven't even given the Normandy her shakedown run, and they're asking us to go on a mission?"

"That's right, son. I'm not surprised that they've invited themselves to use this vessel so quickly, though, considering it's a 'cooperative' creation," Anderson replied with a one-sided grin.

"Yeah, guess I fooled myself into thinking that this boat was all ours. Felt nice while the dream lasted, though."

The two men chuckled at the workings of galactic government, neither having much desire to be involved with any of it despite their obligations. Shepard's curiosity was piqued, though, and for once in a good long while, it was his turn to ask a question.

"Sir, mind if I get the details of this mission? Where we're going, what we're doing, who we're shooting?"

Anderson exhaled in exasperation and rubbed his crew cut nervously. "Sorry, L-C. Specifics are need-to-know for the time being. I can get you up to speed once we're aweigh, but for now, I can't tell you anything."

The Chief Engineer frowned. He didn't like being kept in the dark, especially when it was about his own assignment, on his own damn ship. A feeling of uncertainty grew in the back of Shepard's mind. Before Shepard could voice his displeasure, Anderson spoke again.

"More big news, Shepard. The Alliance decided that the middle bar on your insignia was looking a little skinny. I recommended they promote you to Commander for all the work you've done getting this big, beautiful bitch space-worthy, and they agreed. I'm also personally asking you to be my executive officer, effective immediately."

Shepard was genuinely shocked to be presented with a new title and position. He was just an over-glorified grease monkey that happened to have gone through N-school; was this because of what happened on Elysium seven years ago?

"Thank you, sir," was the most the newly-minted Commander could say.

"Congratulations, Commander Shepard." Anderson pulled a small black case from his desk and handed it to the CDR. "Your silver oak leaves are in there. Now, get cleaned up and introduce yourself to the main support staff officers. Navigator Pressley should be somewhere on the CIC, and Flight Lieutenant Moreau will be in the officer's lounge dockside. Check the bar," the Captain said wryly.

"Aye aye, sir." With their conversation finished, and big new developments to mull over, Commander Shepard curtly saluted his superior and headed out of the office.

* * *

"…and then some colonial bumpkin from Amaterasu fresh out of the Academy says 'You're full of shit, Joker! You can't bank a ship in a vacuum!' So I grabbed him by his collar, an-"

"You really are full of it, Moreau."

"What, you too? Are you seriously doubting my immense capability to handle a boat, L-T?"

"No, I'm not. I'm saying I doubt your ability to grab someone by their collar."

A burst of laughter surrounded a cross-looking Flight Lieutenant as Commander Shepard walked towards a gathering of officers in the corner of the dockside lounge. The group of junior officers all had drinks in hand, save for the Lieutenant that had cracked the joke at the FLT's expense.

As Shepard approached, several of the men facing his direction perked up, stiffening slightly at the sight of senior officer bars.

The Commander noticed the reaction to his presence and chuckled inwardly. The fact that he could intimidate men that were effectively his equal less than a few hours ago amused him greatly. He didn't realize that the N7 ribbon sewn into the breast of his uniform would've had an identical effect, senior officer or not.

"Relax, gentlemen. I'm not here to cause trouble." Shepard let his imaginary smirk become reality, seeing the look of relief on the faces of the men seated in front of him.

"Wait, Shepard? Lieutenant Commander Shepard? Is that you?" one of the men said, turning to face the CDR.

"Alenko? Hell, it's good to see you, Lieutenant!" Shepard reached out and shook the man's hand firmly. "It's been a long time. Seven years now, huh?"

"Yeah, just about. Feels a lot longer, though. What've you been up to, Shepard? I see you made Commander. Congratulations, sir," Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko said, smiling to his old war buddy.

"Thanks, but you don't have to call me sir, Alenko. Not while you're off duty, anyway," Shepard grinned back, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face on the eve of his mysterious new mission. "I got reassigned after…after the Blitz. Pulled back here to Earth to help coordinate construction on the _SSV Aconagua, _then got pulled out _again _to work on the _SSV Normandy. _Got posted as her Chief Engineer."

"No kidding? I had no idea you were assigned to the Normandy. I just got transferred to her two weeks ago, and this right here is her pilot. Commander Shepard, Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau," Kaidan said, gesturing to the still sullen-looking recipient of the LT's dry wit.

"Nice to meet you, Flight Lieutenant," Shepard said, grasping the man's hand in a tight handshake.

"OW! Watch the hand, Commander. And you can just call me Joker. Everyone else does, and it's a helluvalot shorter than 'Flight Lieutenant Moreau'." The young, bearded FLT rubbed his right hand gingerly, as if Shepard had caused him a great pain with the polite gesture.

"Sorry, Joker. Didn't mean to hurt you. What's wrong with your hand?" the Commander replied apologetically.

"Nothing's wrong with my hand, Commander," Joker snapped. "I have a disability. Vrolik's Syndrome. It means my bones have as much substance to them as an asari dancer."

Shepard blinked once, momentarily set off-balance by the unintentional revelation of his pilot's illness. He caught himself, though, and replied, "Sorry, Joker. I'll keep that in mind."

The FLT eyed the Commander incredulously. "That's it? You're not gonna ask stupid questions like, 'Oh no, Joker, are you going to break an arm flying the ship? Are you going to need special accommodations to take piss breaks while on duty?"

To the other officers' surprise, Shepard burst out laughing at the subordinate's crude sarcasm.

"Joker, you graduated from the Alliance Flight Academy. Captain Anderson personally sang your praises to me. Besides, how you use the head is none of my damn business." Shepard practiced rank and file formalities like any good marine would, but he was never a big fan of them himself. He appreciated Joker's biting insubordinate tone. It was helping him relax.

"Yeah, Joker. What're you getting at, anyway? You lookin' to get the Commander in the head with you? Fraternization is against code." Once again, the table of naval officers all burst out laughing, save for Joker, whose head was bowed and planted firmly on his palm.

"Jesus. Sometimes, I hate you, Alenko. Actually, no. I hate you all the time. The only way you could avoid being the most hated person in this room would be if a turian waltzed in and slapped my ass," said Joker through gritted teeth, face flushed in embarrassment.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant, but I don't think your navy would approve if I did such a thing."

The Alliance officers immediately fell silent as they looked towards the source of the gravelly new voice. Standing before the group of men was a tall, armor-clad turian. His face was brown, covered in the hard cartilage plates that defined the avian-descended race, with ornate white stripes in a pattern that Shepard thought resembled ancient Earth aboriginal tribe tattoos. He had red and black combat armor, making him appear larger and more intimidating than he already was. The Commander also noticed that the turian had an assault rifle attached to a hardpoint on his back.

"Uhh…hi there. How did you..?" the baffled Flight Lieutenant struggled to find words for the strange existence of a heavily-armed turian in an Alliance Navy officer's lounge.

"Get on this station? Or get into this lounge?" the turian retorted. Shepard was no expert on turians and their body language, but by the way the man twitched his mandibles and intonated his response, he felt like the turian was sneering.

Not bothering to wait for an affirmative, the man spoke again, this time looking right at Shepard, and said, "My name is Nihlus Kryik, Council Spectre, and I'm overseeing the _SSV Normandy's _first mission. Gentlemen, we're going to Eden Prime."

* * *

**_So, there's the first chapter. Please, feel free to criticize the holy living crap out of this. I would greatly appreciate it if people pointed out any errors, grammatical, logistical, or otherwise. I'm just sort of freewriting this as the plot comes to mind. Kind of helps that I'm mostly following the plot of ME1 anyway. Hope you guys enjoy the story._**


	2. Chapter 2 - Prime Directive

**Chapter 2 – Prime Directive**

**_SSV Normandy, in orbit around Eden Prime, Utopia System, Exodus Cluster_**

**_2137 hours, 29.4.2183, Terran Coordinated Universal Time_**

Shepard's world was one of blurriness and pain. Horrifying images, mercifully brief, flashed before his eyes. Blood-curdling screams, insidious whispers and an unnatural, bone-shaking, mechanical groaning filled his ears. His mouth was dry, filled with the taste of ash, and he smelled burning. Burnt bodies and spilled blood.

_Aki…Ksad Ishan…ek Skythes nesh hayel._

A lone voice in an alien language pierced Shepard's nightmare. He'd heard nothing like it before, but the feeling of desperation was evident nonetheless. It repeated over and over in the background, large gaps of silence, but Shepard recognized a phrase.

_Ek Skythes nesh hayel…_

Shepard's heart raced, mind struggling to comprehend all he was experiencing. A nightmare that felt all too real. In an instant, the Commander's eyes split wide open, his mind crashing back into reality like a crippled warship falling planetside. Immediately, he felt an intense, throbbing pain wrack his brain as he took in his surroundings. He was in the medbay of the Normandy.

_What the hell happened? _Shepard wondered. Before he could recall just what exactly put him where he was, the Chief Medical Officer of the Normandy SR-1 walked into the room.

"Ah, Commander Shepard. Finally awake, I see." The woman who spoke was dressed in standard Alliance medical worker garb, sleeves bearing Master Chief Petty Officer bars, breast showing a winged shield emblazoned with an asklepian. Her hair was gray, her face showing the lines that came with age and experience.

"Yeah, barely. My head's pounding so hard, I feel like I might as well knock out again," Shepard said with a frown. "Thanks for taking care of me, doc. I don't think we've met."

"Of course, Commander. Master Chief Flight Surgeon Doctor Karin Chakwas. Good to meet you in a conscious state, sir," the woman replied with the warm smile only a healer could give. "You had quite the encounter down on Eden Prime, Commander. What do you remember?"

Shepard sorted through the tenuous and garbled events of the last 48 hours.

_Eden Prime was attacked…an army of synthetic beings called the geth…a dreadnought landing safely planetside…Jenkins. Nihlus. The Prothean beacon. Everything went to shit down there, didn't it? Just like Elysium…_

Shepard cringed as the memories of Eden Prime flooded back to him. "Corporal Jenkins is dead. So is that turian Spectre, Nihlus. We ran into a marine, Gunnery Chief Williams…then…we made it to the Prothean beacon, and…nothing…cohesive after that," the Commander's voice seemed to croak. He felt weak, his battle-hardened resolve suddenly fragile.

Chakwas nodded. "That's correct, Commander. I'm sorry about Jenkins. He was a good kid. As for the beacon, from what I understand of the report made by Lieutenant Alenko, you interacted with it somehow. He said it had some sort of mass effect field that activated when there was an individual in close proximity to it. Chief Williams accidentally triggered it, and you pulled her away, but got yourself caught in the field. The beacon exploded, and you were rendered unconscious. Williams and Alenko called for an evac and got you up here. You've been out for 15 hours." She quickly added, "Williams and Alenko are fine, by the way."

Shepard was relieved to hear that, at least. No leader liked to have soldiers die on their watch, especially young men like Jenkins, but the CDR took solace in the fact that the rest of his strike team had made it out unscathed.

"Doc, there's an issue. While I was out, I had a reoccurring nightmare. Really vivid. It was...I don't know. Just scenes flashing by, but I could feel what was happening with the rest of my senses. It's hard to explain," Shepard said with a grimace, the terrifying vision once again coming to the front of his mind.

"Hm. Interesting. Your brain scans show hyper-elevated neocortical activity for the last 15 hours. That part of the brain is usually quite inactive while sleeping or unconscious, dreaming or otherwise. Perhaps it has something to do with your exposure to the beacon, though I can't imagine what it is. Radiological is negative, and all other brain activity is normal. You seem to check out fine, Commander. Just take it easy for today, and have some pain killers if you feel like you need them."

"Huh. OK, sure thing, doc. Thanks." With that, Chakwas smiled and sat down at her computer, fingers flying over the holographic interface. Shepard stood up slowly, testing his balance to make sure he wouldn't topple over and make his headache worse. Satisfied that he wasn't going to go face-first into a bulkhead, he walked out of the room straight towards the Captain's quarters.

To get to Anderson's office, Shepard had to cross the Normandy's mess area. To his surprise, sitting alone with a half-empty plate of Alliance Navy "chef's surprise" was Chief Petty Officer Ashley Williams, the marine Shepard had rescued from the geth on Eden Prime.

She sensed movement, and upon noticing that it was Commander Shepard approaching her, she bolted upright, snapped off a salute, and almost yelled "Officer on deck. Atten-tion!"

All of the soldiers in the mess instinctually stiffened and brought their hands to their foreheads in perfect form.

Shepard produced a jovial smirk, returned the salute and said "As you were."

Williams remained standing, eyeing the Commander with a look of concern.

"Commander Shepard, sir. Good to see saving my ass didn't put you down for too long." There was a hint of guilt evident in her voice.

"Don't worry about me, Chief. How are you holding up? Eden Prime was a hellhole."

Williams' look of concern turned into a deep scowl. "Damn those synthetic bastards. What they did to the colonists, what they did to my unit…the Council better do something about this. This is more than an Alliance issue now that the geth are involved."

"You're right. The geth's presence is concerning, to put it mildly," the Commander said, solemnly nodding in agreement.

"I haven't properly thanked you for helping me out down there, Commander. So, ah- thanks. You feeling alright?" The look of concern was back, her fury pushed down to be dealt with later.

"My head is killing me, my muscles ache. Couldn't be better, Chief. Maybe think twice before messing around with weird, ancient alien tech?" Shepard's sarcastic remark bore no ill will, another lopsided grin crossing his jaw.

The good-natured tease wasn't lost on the Chief. "Aye, sir. Don't touch the green-glowing telekinetic Prothean thingies, got it."

"Good to hear. In the meantime, I have to talk to Anderson. Can't imagine he'll be happy about the way things went down there. Take care, Chief. Enjoy the...whatever it is that's on you plate."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

Shepard once again found himself pressing the visitor alert button for Captain Anderson's office. He'd have to get real used to this, being the Normandy's new XO. Between XO duties, leading the ground team, and supervising the new Chief Engineer, Shepard had his work cut out for him.

_No rest for the weary_, Shepard mused.

The door opened, revealing a man that looked as worn-out as Shepard sitting with an assortment of datapads, head in his hands.

"Shepard, good to see you're up and about. Having my new XO knocked out of commission on our trial run wouldn't be good for my reputation," the Captain said half-jokingly. He, too, seemed concerned about what happened to the CDR on Eden Prime.

"Good to be back in the realm of the living, sir. About what happened down there-"

"Not your fault, Commander," Anderson interrupted vindictively. "The geth attack was sudden, undetectable and completely unforeseeable. Nobody can blame you for the situation getting FUBAR. As for the beacon…well, let's just say that the Council is not exactly jumping for joy. Neither is ambassador Udina. That pedantic politician has been shouting me down ever since we sent word that there was a geth presence and the beacon was in jeopardy. What I would give to clock that bastard…" Anderson spoke with simultaneous frustration and sympathy.

"Roger that. I'm not so sure that the beacon was lost entirely, though, Captain."

Anderson arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean, Commander?"

Shepard exhaled in exasperation and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he'd picked up from the CO sitting opposite him. "Well…when I was out, after interacting with the beacon, I had a nightmare, incredibly vivid. Images of death and destruction, but what of, I can't say."

Anderson leaned in, clasping his hands together. "Go on, son."

"There was a voice, too. I could hear it perfectly compared to the blurry images. It was an alien language, but none I'd ever heard before. It definitely wasn't English or Galactic. I'm pretty sure it wasn't any major dialect of the other races, either. I…this is a big leap of faith, Captain, but I'm pretty sure it was a Prothean message."

The Captain of the Normandy's eyes widened, his mouth stilled, the man processing what Shepard just told him. After a few moments of silence, Anderson spoke in a stern manner.

"This could be big, Shepard. We've got to take this to the Council. I'll try to arrange a hearing through Udina. We have to be there to debrief them in person about Nihlus' death and our failure to retrieve the beacon, anyway. Get up to the cockpit and tell Joker to set a relay course straight to the Citadel. Dismissed."

"Aye aye, sir." Shepard saluted the Captain and was swiftly out the door. He went up the stairs to the CIC and walked the length of Crew Deck One to the cockpit. Seated at the helm of the Normandy was the man Kaidan had poked fun at a few days prior.

"Op-check is clean, mark on two. Clear. Wait…Adams, there's a minor spike in the primary core. Did one of your guys drop a plasma torch into my containment field or something? Jesus."

Joker, it seemed, lived up to his name. Shepard walked up behind the Flight Lieutenant who, upon hearing the clank-clank of the Commander's boots on the metal deck, turned his chair to greet him.

"Hey Commander, you're not dead. Great. Need something?"

Shepard shook his head and frowned. "Besides 1200 mil of Vitamin M and 12 hours of sleep?"

Joker scoffed and responded, "Look on the bright side, Commander. If you were me, they'd be reassembling your legs like a jigsaw puzzle for the next two weeks."

"True enough. Anyway, orders from Anderson: have Pressley to plot a course for the Citadel. Get us there yesterday."

"Jeez, Commander. I know you got knocked on the head down there, but could you at least say 'please' or something?" Joker, snarky as ever, faked a hurt look at Shepard.

"Joker…" the CDR replied, glaring down at the ever-insubordinate pilot with intensity.

"Alright, alright, I'm on it. Take a joke, Commander."

The normally cool and collected XO felt a sudden rage boil up in his chest. He suppressed his urge to punch the FLT in the side of the head, settling for a snarling remark at the ill-timed joking.

"I am _not _in the mood for your shit, Flight Lieutenant. I just lost a good soldier on our first mission. Now is not the time to dick around."

Joker winced when he realized his thoughtlessness. "Sorry, Commander, I didn't mean…Jenkins was alright. It wasn't your fault."

Shepard was expressionless, eyes glazing over as his thoughts drifted into the past. "Yeah…maybe. As you were, L-T."

"Aye aye, sir. You should try to get some rest. We're at least three hours out from the relay that links us to the Citadel, and we have to stop off at the gas giant in this cluster to vent our IES and discharge our core build-up. Should tack on another hour or two."

Shepard nodded and left the cockpit without a word. He passed Pressley on his way to the stairs leading to Crew Deck 2. The navigator had several of his subordinates gathered around a chart of the Utopia system, plotting the shortest route from Eden Prime to the gas giant and mass relay beyond.

They didn't notice the Commander as he walked by. Shepard sighed and pulled up his omni-tool, checking the time as he descended. _Damn_. Another hour and a half before third watch was on duty, which meant his assigned sleeper pod was currently occupied.

_Too bad this boat is so small. An XO on a dreadnought would have his own quarters._

Shepard chuckled quietly at his own selfishness. He'd long ago learned to give up personal luxuries like a personal bed or privacy in general. It came with military service. The Commander let loose a long, drawn-out yawn as he sat down in the now-empty mess area.

His thoughts began to drift, directionless and without purpose. _A lot of good N7 mastery did me. Sending a combat engineer down to lead a ground team…I guess nobody ever criticized the Alliance of great decision-making. First Elysium, now Eden Prime…_

As Shepard sullenly wondered how many more good men he'd lose under his command, his mind began to lose focus. Whispers and screams tugged at the back of his mind. He found himself asleep, but hardly at rest. The beacon's visions were back to haunt him. The sights and sounds blurred together, less focused than they had been before. The alien voice, the clearest part of the vision, was fading away as well.

* * *

He found himself standing on a hillside, green grass beneath his soles. Stretched out before him was an idyllic expanse of rolling hills, turning into a range of breathtaking snow-capped mountains that met the horizon, like the jagged teeth of a great stone beast attempting to swallow up the heavens. But there was still screaming. Human screams. And still the smell of blood, the taste of ash; but, this time, it was tangible and real.

A shrill alarm caught Shepard's attention, and he whirled around to see a large human colony and Alliance garrison almost completely engulfed in flames. The report of weapons fire permeated the din of screams and flames, muzzle flashes twinkling like cameras in a hellish football stadium.

"Oh my god, John…" The whimpering voice surprised the Commander, causing him once again to turn. His eyes went wide when he found that there were two dozen people standing behind him, a motley assortment of Alliance soldiers and civilians, all clutching their weapons nervously, looking up to him.

"Natasha..? What…what's going on?" The Commander struggled to recognize what was happening in the haze of his dream state. _Why is this so familiar? Why can't I remember what the hell is going on? Why is my fiancée carrying a batarian sidearm?_

The woman named Natasha carried a grave expression, face pale and ghost-white. "John…it's the batarians…slavers are attacking Cronus. We have to…"

Before she could finish her sentence, Shepard felt a searing, unbearable pain slice through his head. In the breadth of a single moment, his memories spilled into his dream. The truth couldn't have been more clear had it been written in the sky.

_2176. Elysium._

One of the colonists standing adjacent to Natasha screamed out in terror, raising his worn-out M-2 Scavenger heavy pistol as he bellowed, "**Batarians! They're coming for us!**"

Shepard found that he was clutching his own sidearm, a custom M-3/N7 Predator pistol. An uncharacteristic wave of panic rolled over the Commander as he spun around and shakily drew a bead on the nearest humanoid figure.

_This…this wasn't how it happened…_

The batarian slaver was clad in beaten, dented combat armor sans helmet. Shepard could hear the otherworldly battle shout emanating from the man's mouth, sharp teeth bared. A weathered weapon of batarian make was leveled in his direction, even as the slaver charged forward. Everything was now in slow motion.

Shepard sighted his Predator center-mass on the charging batarian and squeezed the trigger. To his horror, the gun's heat sink vent popped open, hissing as heat dissipated into the cool alpine air. A loud _beep-beep-beep _seemed to echo from the distant mountains, reverberating with the abject terror that now possessed the Commander's mind.

The batarian, now barely a meter from the crowd, fired his weapon towards the frightened band of humans. A white-hot bolt of metal streaked from the muzzle, striking Shepard in the chest.

A woman screamed.

Shepard, now in a terrified daze, turned to see Natasha crumpled on the ground at his feet. Her eyes were watery, tears flowing down her face. Gone from her hands was her weapon. Instead, her hands clutched weakly at a serrated metal rod gruesomely embedded in her abdomen. Crimson blood was spattered all over her shirt and pants, staining the verdant green grass she lay upon.

"Natasha! NO!" Shepard's voice sounded distant and feeble. He didn't feel like his voice was his own.

"John…" She could only whisper between gasps, her life slowly pouring out of her.

"Try not to move! I'm going to get you out of here." Shepard's words weren't unique. What else could one say to a dying loved one?

"I…I can't…" Her eyes became blank, her chest no longer heaved. She was dead. No dying confession of love or motivational speech. Death wasn't like the vids. Death was cruel and efficient.

Shepard fought back his tears, fear reigning over grief in his heart. He looked up to a gruesome, awful sight.

The batarian slavers had torn through the armed Marines and the civilians that dared to resist. The ones that dropped their weapons in surrender were being dragged off by their arms, legs, or hair, gravelly batarian laughs seemingly carrying them away. 14 bodies lay in front of Shepard, bleeding and broken. 14 sets of eyes gazing into his soul, accusing him.

_Damn it all…damn this place…_

As Shepard was cursing himself, the planet, the batarians, and the galaxy as a whole, Natasha's bloodied corpse began to move. All the Commander could do was look on in horror as her crimson-stained hands shakily reached out to him. With a sudden swiftness her hands were latched firmly around Shepard's neck, her body overpowering him as he tumbled backward into the soft grass.

Her eyes were dead and unfocused, but pierced the man with conviction nonetheless.

_No…not this…_

"You were supposed to protect us, John. You were supposed to protect the colony." The brutality of her gaze was surpassed only by her words.

Shepard struggled to breathe. "I…tried!" His words were wrought with regret, sputtered out weakly through clenched teeth.

"You didn't do enough. You let me die." Blood dripped from Natasha's mouth as she spoke, tracing lines and dots on Shepard's face.

"I pushed…pushed the batarians back. I…saved half…the colony!" His words were hollow and meaningless. Air and noise.

"I'm dead because of you, John. Get up, Commander."

"I'm…sor- what?"

"Shepard, wake up."

The stench of blood, the choking ash, the smoky sky, the rolling hills and Natasha's dead eyes all faded away into muddled blackness. In their stead was a brushed aluminum mess hall table. A dark, rough hand shook Shepard's shoulder.

"Commander, you need to get up. We're docked at the Citadel."

Shepard groaned, stiff from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. He'd used his arm as a makeshift pillow, now numb from the prolonged lack of circulation. His aching neck craned to find the voice that had saved him from his nightmare.

"Anderson- uhh, Captain. Sorry, I guess I was too beat to make it to my pod." The CDR felt slightly embarrassed at his makeshift sleeping arrangements.

"Don't worry, Shepard. You went through a lot back on Eden Prime, I understand. You should freshen up and get your dress blues on, though. We're due to meet with Udina and the Council in two galactic standards." Anderson's face was full of kindness and understanding.

"Alright. Thank you, sir. I'll be ready." Shepard nodded tiredly. He'd been asleep for at least five hours, but felt no more rested than he had been after waking up in the medbay.

"Good to hear it, son. Take Williams and Alenko with you, and meet me at the human embassy on the Presidium. We'll have to get our story straight before going into the hearing. Now, get moving, Commander." Anderson gave him a smile and a slap on the back.

"Aye aye, sir." Shepard stood, saluted, and made straight for the head, failing to push the icy, dead fingers of Natasha and the burning Elysian colony of Cronus out of his mind.

_It's just a dream. That wasn't how it happened. It wasn't as simple as that. Save the colony, or save Natasha. I did the right thing…_

As the Commander tugged off his fatigues before climbing into the shower, he laughed grimly to himself. _Doing the right thing, being a hero…doesn't matter what you do. People still die. I traded a wedding band for the Star of Terra._

Shepard's guilt was going to kill him someday.

* * *

**_I noticed that I accidentally referenced the Normandy SR-2. I'm currently re-playing ME2 right now, and my memory of the SR-1 lapsed when I wrote the bit about Shepard going down to Deck 2, right before his nightmare. The SR-1 had stairs, the SR-2 was all elevator. I corrected it. Sorry if anyone re-reading this got confused. Chapter 3 should be up within a week (as of 1/31/'12). Cheers!_**


	3. Chapter 3 - Chains of Command

**Chapter 3 - Chains of Command  
**

_**Level 17, Kithoi Ward, Citadel Station, in orbit around Widow**_

_**1448 hours, 01.5.2183, Terran Coordinated Universal Time**_

_**13:31, Cycle 115.2572, Galactic Standard Time**_

Shepard was sprinting down the cool, red-lit maintenance corridor as quickly as his legs could carry him.

_What in the hell have I gotten myself into? This is absurd…_

"I think we're getting close. The markings I just saw mean we're around the 520 block," said a flanged, baritone voice, belonging to a blue-armored turian. He huffed the words out between sharp breaths.

"Hah! Seems like the both of you are running out of breath. Am I gonna have to carry one of you?" This voice was coarse, gravelly, and deep. It could only be a krogan.

The sight would have been strange for any person of any species. A human in Alliance armor, a krogan mercenary, and a turian Citadel Security officer, all heavily armed, all running together through the hallways of Kithoi Ward.

Despite the burning in his legs, Shepard pushed on. They were racing against time. They had a quarian to save.

"Shepard, Wrex! Slow down. I hear something," the turian said, trying to keep his voice low. The three men stopped their mad dash. Shepard was grateful that he could catch his breath, if only for a moment. Had he not known any better, he'd have thought his legs were actually ablaze.

The Commander focused his hearing, attempting to drown out the sound of his own dogged panting, but could hear nothing but indistinguishable echoes. Turians, evidently, had far superior hearing than humans.

"I hear…two voices. One's definitely turian. The other…sounds female, speaking…heavily-accented Galactic. I'd say that's our quarian," the C-Sec officer affirmed that they'd reached their target in time.

Shepard spoke in a low whisper, equipped with the knowledge that turians had supreme hearing, and that their target was meeting with a turian. Hopefully they could keep the element of surprise.

"Alright, you two. Pistols out. Check your targets. Keep the quarian alive, no exceptions. Ready weapons, wait on my go." Shepard's N training kicked in, expertly directing his strike team along the wall towards the source of the voices. As they approached, Shepard could begin to make out words.

"…bring it?" The voice was deep, male. _The turian_, Shepard guessed.

"Where's…broker?...Fist?" A softer voice, more high-pitched. _Definitely the quarian._

Shepard signaled the two men following him to double-time it while still keeping low against the wall. The trio approached a large crate when an explosion rocked the maintenance hallway. The narrowness of the environment amplified the volume. Shepard could only hear ringing.

He broke into another sprint, the two others following suit, the distinctive chatter of weapons fire slowly overpowering the ringing in his ears.

By the time Shepard maneuvered around the crate, his omni-tool was already activated, keyed up with a sabotage program that interfered with firearm electronics. He registered a slim, female form crouched behind a short box in front of him- the quarian. Rushing to force her out of cover was a turian, face painted white with what Shepard guessed to be a turian skull.

He wasted no time targeting the hostile alien. The sabotage program worked almost instantly. The turian assailant brought his weapon to bear on the new set of targets that materialized in front of him, but instead of mass accelerated rounds pouring forth from his Vindicator assault rifle, it expelled a pathetic _beep-beep-beep _as Shepard's handiwork tricked the gun's VI into thinking it had overheated.

The turian's eyes widened in shock, barely able to register what had happened before a shotgun blast from inside his kinetic barrier range ripped through his torso. Blue blood splashed across the metal corridor, contrasting strongly with the dim red lighting.

Shepard slid into cover next to the shotgun-toting quarian as his cohorts bunkered down in a nook on the other side of the hall. The Commander nodded to the young woman wordlessly as suppressive fire peppered their position.

He gestured down the hall, giving a hand signal to the turian and krogan and shouted as loudly as he could muster, short of breath as he was. "**Suppressing fire!**" They both nodded in agreement, pulling out their assault rifles, and returned the volley that was keeping Shepard and the quarian planted behind cover.

As soon as the box stopped taking hits, Shepard whirled out from his crouched position and pointed his pistol where his combat VI told him the targets were. A few tense seconds passed, and a large, oval helmet peeked out of cover.

_Salarian? Equal-opportunity assassination squad. How progressive. _Shepard thought to himself as he squeezed the trigger of his pistol in a quick, well-practiced one-two.

The mercs must have been cheap, or so Shepard thought to himself, as the two shots from his pistol were sufficient to deplete the salarian's kinetic barriers. A follow up blast from the quarian's shotgun was enough to splatter the wall green with the alien's blood.

Shepard barked out, "Two tangos down, one left!" The hallway was awkwardly quiet. The CDR could only hear his heart pounding blood and adrenaline through his head.

"Eh, hell with these amateurs," the krogan rumbled. He pulled a grenade from his belt, primed it, and rolled it down the hallway. Four sets of eyes from four different species were fixed on the cylinder as it tumbled forward slowly. Unfortunately for the remaining salarian merc, his eyes were not one of the four. Just as he stepped out of cover, the grenade met with his boot with a soft _tink, _followed by a large explosion. The blast deafened the Commander again. _Why didn't I deploy my helmet? _As the smoke wafted away, Shepard and his crew surveyed the damage.

The salarian's armor had been shredded by the concussive force, relieving the slender alien of one of his legs. Green blood flowed steadily out of the gaping hole at his waist, subtly reflecting the corridor's light. His torso had been torn open as well, chestplate crumpled from the blast. Some of the salarian's innards were protruding from the jagged crater that used to be his abdomen.

"Yeah…he's definitely dead, alright," the turian quipped.

"Hah! Poor bastard should've paid more attention to where he was going," the krogan shot back.

Shepard's concerns were elsewhere, however. He stood, reaching out a hand to the quarian to help her up. She took it after a brief pause, evidently nervous in the presence of three intimidatingly armed, unfamiliar men.

Shepard was the first to speak. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

The woman shifted nervously. "Ah- yes, I'm fine. I can handle myself in a fight, but…thank you for the help…" She ended the sentence almost as a question.

"Commander John Shepard, Systems Alliance Navy," said Shepard, extending his hand to shake hers.

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," she returned his gesture. Her three-fingered hand would've been odd to shake for Shepard, had he not recently traded the human gesture of respect with a turian and krogan over the last four hours. "But please, call me Tali. And your friends?"

The turian cleared his throat. "Garrus Vakarian, Citadel Security. Glad we got here in time to help you, ma'am." He curled his right hand into a fist and thumped his chest once. Shepard guessed that this was the turian form of a handshake, or perhaps a salute.

The krogan, Shepard learned, was not quite as talkative. Or friendly. "Urdnot Wrex. You're welcome, quarian," he grunted more than spoke.

Tali nodded to the two of them as they greeted themselves respectively. She turned back to Shepard.

"I noticed you used an omni-tool hack on that bosh'tet's gun. That was impressive, Commander."

Shepard smirked at the compliment. He didn't expect anyone could've picked up on something like that, especially in the middle of a firefight. "Thanks. Good eye, Ms. nar Rayya. It's a modified Alliance Marine Corps of Engineers active comm signal override command. Normally, it's used for interrupting enemy VI-based comm systems by altering their transmission frequencies at random; however, with the help of a few friends in the AMCE, we re-wrote it to interfere with small arms' VIs instead. Tricks the VI into thinking the internal heat sinks are at capacity. It works against human, turian, batarian, salarian, asari, and krogan small arms."

If there was one thing that Shepard could get carried away with, it was his passion for technology.

Tali nodded enthusiastically as Shepard spoke while Garrus and Wrex stood impatient and silent. When the Commander finished, Tali piped up before either of the other aliens could get a word in.

"That's very interesting, Commander. I've got a similar hack on my omni-tool. It was co-developed between various science vessels from the fleet to comba-

"Alright, we get it. You two are tech-heads. Can we move the babble along quickly so I can pick up my paycheck for putting a bullet in Fist's dumb ass?" Wrex was clearly impatient, and Shepard had no desire to piss off an armed and armored krogan.

"Right. Sorry to be so direct, but we were told you had information that could implicate Saren Arterius, the turian Spectre, in an attack on a human colony. Is that true?" Shepard's words were firm, but his face was kind.

Tali's head bobbed up and down once again. "That's right, Commander. It's a recording I pulled from a geth memory core. I have it stored on my omni-tool."

"Finally, a break in this damn case," Shepard said to nobody in particular. He met Tali's gaze once again. "I can take this data myself, but it might help convince the Council more if you delivered it in person. Will you come with me to meet them? The human ambassador can get you Council Tower clearance."

The silvery, shining orbs behind the quarian's purple visor widened at the mention of the Council Tower. "Th-the Council Tower? C-Sec told me I couldn't even set foot on the Presidium…" Tali's head dipped down with a combination of nervousness and shame.

Shepard looked at the woman incredulously. "Really? Why? Are you in some kind of trouble? Are you a criminal?"

Tali's head snapped back up at Shepard, glowing eyes narrowed, glaring at him. Shepard was so shocked he flinched slightly at the sudden reaction. Before Tali could speak, Garrus interjected.

"Shepard, quarians are seen as vagrants or pickpockets by C-Sec. They tend to cause trouble wherever they go. We don't let them in to the Presidium for that very reason."

Shepard turned to Garrus and gave him as hard a stare as Tali had given him. "What? Are you saying that C-Sec racially profiles the quarians? That's out-and-out bigotry. Does the Council know about this?"

"No, Shepard, it's not just C-Sec. Pretty much everyone in the galaxy does…" Garrus trailed off when he realized two sets of eyes were burning holes into his plates.

"Does that make it justifiable? Isn't the Citadel supposed to represent progressiveness and compassion? To make an example for the rest of the galactic community to follow?" Shepard was getting angry now. Being a human, the newcomers to the galactic scene, he had received his fair share of condescending glares and racial slurs since setting foot on the Citadel. That turian councilor, Sparatus, was particularly hostile towards humans.

Garrus shook his head in frustration. "I…yes, Commander, you're right. It's not excusable or just, but this is a conversation for another time. We need to get Tali's data to your ambassador and the Council."

"Right. Let's move, people." Shepard turned down the corridor, walking through the blood and bodies he always seemed to leave in his wake. The three aliens followed suit. Shepard glanced back, fixing his gaze on the disemboweled and dismembered salarian merc, then back to his new squadmates.

_Equal-opportunity assassination squad, indeed. _He smiled grimly and walked away.

* * *

If Shepard thought teaming up with a krogan merc and a turian cop to save a quarian girl from a mysterious information trader in a plot to implicate a rogue Council Spectre was absurd, then surely his current situation had dipped into the realm of the surreal.

The Commander stepped out of the Council Tower lift into the Presidium to be greeted by a seething mass of omni-tool cams, automated vidcorders, and the cacophony of dozens of news reporters speaking in alien languages.

A good portion of the crowd was human, some speaking English, others spouting rapid-fire dialogue in Chinese, German, and Swahili. There was a section of well-dressed asari reporters, their various shades of blue skin glowing beneath the lights of the anti-grav automated vidcorders. Salarian and turian correspondents were present too, as were the odd volus, hanar, and even an elcor.

_If only dad could see me now. He'd think I'm more of a vid star than a soldier._

Shepard had hardly taken two steps from the lift, entire squad close behind, before the entire mob whirled around, all eyes on him. The volume and intensity of the crowd doubled, firing off questions in the Commander's direction more quickly than a modded autopistol.

All he could do was smile and raise both of his hands, motioning for the crowd to settle down. The effect was not instant, but the throng of reporters eventually got the idea. For a brief moment, tranquility once again reigned in the Presidium.

With a loud, sure voice, Shepard addressed his audience. "I know why all of you are here, and yes, the Council has chosen to name me, Commander John Shepard, the first human member of the elite Spectre Ops Group." Another tsunami of dialogue and noise erupted from the massing of interstellar journalists, and the first human Spectre once again gestured for silence.

"As for the reasoning behind this decision, it is tied with the case that I am currently investigating. At the behest of the Council, no further details can be disclosed at this time. Thank you." As quickly as he could without resorting to violence, Shepard disengaged the crowd, squad following closely behind, and heading to an aircar that had been waiting specifically for him and his group.

The mob tried to close in around him, questions pelting the Commander's ears like heavy rain. He let his group into the before him, struggling against the oppressive mass of reporters. Shepard didn't even wait for the aircar doors to seal. He motioned to Kaidan, the one in the driver's seat, to take off.

The car let loose a high-pitched whine, drowning out the din of the rainbow of reporters below as it ascended, eventually powering forth into the lane of traffic heading toward Tayseri Ward.

"So, uhh…guess you're famous now, huh Commander?" Ashley Williams was the one to break the silence.

Kaidan, Ashley, Tali, and Shepard all chuckled lightly. Evidently, the Commander wasn't the only one who appreciated the insanity they found themselves in.

"Yeah, living the dream, Chief." Shepard returned sarcastically.

_Better this dream than the other one…_

"Hey, Shepard. I wonder if they'll make one of those celeb impersonation VIs after you. Think we could petition Anderson to replace the Normandy's with it?" Kaidan always had a good sense of humor, Shepard remembered. It was good to have him back on the team. He'd missed the lieutenant since they parted ways after the Blitz.

Kaidan's remark earned another round of chuckling from the group, and even the stoic Garrus Vakarian cracked the turian form of a smirk.

Shepard decided to step in before the entire car ride back to the Normandy's dock turned into a joke at his expense. "Very funny, L-T. Now, cut the chatter, people. We need to get a requisitions list together before we can head out to the Artemis Tau cluster for this SAR mission." The Commander was very business-like in his tone. _Guess I make a halfway decent XO after all._

"Now, since we've picked up a few non-human crewmembers, I've been doing some reading on basic living needs for you three. Garrus, Tali; you both have special food and drink needs, right?"

Tali spoke up. "That's right, Commander. Our species are based on a different protein chirality than the rest of the galaxy's species. We can eat your food, but we run the risk of allergic reactions, and we get far less nutrients than we would from our own food."

Shepard nodded in affirmation. "Alright. I'll make sure to get a good supply of turian and quarian rations on the boat. Anything else you two might need?"

"Actually, Commander, there's something else. Quarian immune systems are much weaker than any other species'. I could eat turian rations, but we would need a food sterilizer…any kind of contaminant could make me incredibly sick or…maybe even kill me…pre-sterilized and sealed quarian rations are going to be hard to find on the Citadel, anyway."

The Spectre shot a look of concern her way. "Well, in that case, a sterilizer will be at the top of our requisitions list. If there's one part of the crew that I need in top form, it's my engineering staff." He smiled at the young quarian reassuringly.

Tali immediately perked up at the Commander's remark. "W-what? Engineering staff? You mean…you're going to let me work on your ship?" Her voice wavered, filled with tentative excitement at the prospect of being able to tinker with the most high-tech space vessel in the galaxy.

"Of course. You told me about some of the work you did when you were with the Migrant Fleet. I can tell you're a knowledgeable and skilled tech expert and engineer. I'm sure Anderson will trust my judgment." Shepard had no idea how happy he had just made the exuberant young woman.

The Commander turned his attention to the hulking krogan uncomfortably wedged into a seat clearly made with asari and salarian proportions in mind. "Now, Wrex. You need anything special we don't already have on the Normandy?"

Wrex snorted in response. "Long as I have a place to sleep, shit, and eat, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, Shepard."

"Works for me, Wrex. Kaidan, how close are we to the Tayseri Docking Bay?"

Kaidan glanced down at the holographic interface before him. "About three minutes, Commander."

Shepard nodded, and faced forward out of the windscreen in silence. His mind began to roam once more, pondering his new responsibilities.

_Spectre. Great. One more set of politicians I have to answer to. And now I have to chase down one of their own. One of _my_ own, now, I guess. And he's working with an asari matriarch, commanding a massive dreadnought that can apparently land planetside..._

Shepard scoffed to himself.

_No rest for the weary._

The rest of the ride was made in relative silence, the only noise being the faint _whoosh _of air flowing over the vehicle and gentle whining of the engine. The car landed just outside of the Tayseri Ward docking bay, and the strange assortment of Spectre hunters piled out.

Looks of both curiosity and concern followed the six individuals as they rode the mobile walkway towards the Normandy's bay. Six heavily armed people in a civilian environment like the Citadel was bound to draw attention. As they stepped out into the bay, several of the newcomers were awestruck at the impressive sight of the gleaming Normandy SR-1.

Shepard had to admit that he still felt pride swell in his chest whenever he saw the vessel, or even spoke about it. He had played a not-insignificant part in putting the frigate into the sky.

"Spirits…this thing looks like it can do some damage, Shepard," Garrus said, a gleam in his eye. "I probably would've stayed in the Hierarchy Navy if I got posted to this ship."

Wrex was, of course, not as impressed. "Don't be stupid, Vakarian. This ship is meant for stealth, not a straight-up fight. Seems spaceworthy enough, but I'd much rather be in a real warship than this tin can."

Tali was failing miserably in containing her enthusiasm. "It's amazing, Commander! So graceful, so new…any captain on the Migrant Fleet would give up their position in an instant to serve on this vessel, even as the lowliest crewmember…"

Shepard loosed a gentle laugh. "Well, Ms. nar Rayya, it's your lucky day. I'll be giving you, Wrex and Garrus a brief tour of the ship. I'll introduce you to Chief Engineer Adams as soon as I get clearance from Anderson to get you on his crew."

"Thank you again, Commander. There's one thing; you keep calling me 'Ms. nar Rayya'. 'nar Rayya' is actually just the name of my birth-ship. My family name is 'Zorah'."

Shepard flushed slightly and rubbed his neck. "Oh, uhh- sorry, I didn't know that. Guess I don't know much about quarians at all. You'll have to educate me when we have some downtime."

The Commander turned to address his squad generally. "Let's go, people. We've got work to do before we can weigh anchor." Before the group could enter the Normandy's airlock, though, Williams grabbed Shepard's arm and pulled him aside.

"Commander, could I have a word with you, sir?" Something was clearly bothering her.

Shepard nodded and motioned to the rest of the squad. "Ask for Navigator Pressley. He can give you three the tour. Alenko, mind getting the requisitions list to Ensign Cho?"

"Sure thing, Shepard. You two play nice." Kaidan turned away with a smirk on his face.

The airlock hissed loudly as it closed. When she was sure that the rest of the squad couldn't hear her, she spoke. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted, Chief. What's on your mind?"

The young soldier seemed to weigh her words in her mind for a moment before deciding on what exactly she wanted to say. "Sir…are you sure it's a good idea to have aliens aboard the Normandy?"

Shepard was taken aback by the directness of the question. "What are you talking about, Williams? Are you saying you don't trust them?"

"Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying. This boat is the cutting edge of the Alliance fleet. A lot of people in our own navy don't even know this ship exists. Why should we take on a krogan merc, a turian cop, and some random wrench wench in a weird suit? We have the soldiers to handle the hunt for Saren without the help of those aliens."

Shepard stared Williams down. "I'm sorry, Chief. It sounds like you have the impression that you get to make decisions on this vessel. You are sorely mistaken. I will not tolerate _any_ racism from you or anyone else while we are on this mission. If I ask you to kiss a goddamn turian, you had better respond with 'sir, what cheek, sir'; do I make myself clear?" The Commander's tone rose steadily with his brief tirade, ending in a fairly loud shout that echoed along the boarding corridor they were standing in.

The Chief immediately stood at attention, snapping off a salute in perfect form, and shouted back "Sir, yes sir!"

Shepard could only shake his head at the overt racism of the female soldier. _Humanity overcomes racism amongst our own, only to take to the stars and become prejudiced fearmongers once again. Great._

As his rage subsided, he felt a pang of guilt. He had a particularly strong hatred for batarians, a hatred that he could not get over no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't the only one, though, as the batarians were probably the most-hated race in the galaxy. In fact, as Shepard dwelled on his feelings about the four-eyed humanoids, he guessed that he'd probably shot more batarians than he'd shaken hands with.

He winced as he realized that he had snapped at Garrus a few hours earlier for reasoning in the exact same way about prejudices against quarians. The calm voice of the Normandy's VI pulled him away from his moment of guilt as he stood silently next to a fuming Chief Williams in the airlock.

"Decontamination in progress…decontamination in progress…"

Just as the inner airlock doors slid open, Shepard was entirely caught off guard as the VI added, "The commanding officer is aboard. XO Pressley stands relieved."

Shepard glanced at Ashley, only to be met with a look that indicated the Chief was as perplexed as he. The Commander went left towards the cockpit, intending to inform the Flight Lieutenant that the ship's VI was bugged, and that he'd be sorting it out shortly.

"Hey Joker. I'm sure you heard that intercom message just now. Sounds like our VI software's got a glitch somewhere. I'll head down to the server cluster to run some diagnostics in a minute. Page Adams to meet me there as well." Not waiting for a response, Shepard turned to leave.

"Uhh…actually, Commander, I don't think it was a glitch. Captain Anderson came aboard with Udina right after your Spectre inauguration. Congratulations on becoming a blunt instrument for yet another government, by the way. They were talking about 'handing the ship over to the Spectres' or something like that. They're waiting for you in the conference room."

Shepard wanted to laugh, but couldn't bring himself to do it. The same feeling he got right before Anderson told him about his promotion and the mission to Eden Prime rose up from his gut. A lurch in his stomach, like the universe was twisting his insides just to let him know that the shit was about to hit the fan. He walked briskly towards the meeting room, not knowing that his world was about to turned upside down for the second time in a week.

* * *

"Permission to speak freely, sir." The conversation Shepard had with Williams half an hour ago echoed in his mind.

"Granted." The Captain and former CO of the Normandy was not happy.

"What the _fuck _is really going on here?" He paused, and added, "Sir."

Anderson knew Shepard wouldn't buy his cover story about why the Normandy was being handed over to the new Spectre. He'd always known his protégé was incredibly clever, and all the time the two had spent together had erased any ability to keep secrets between them. Besides, the cover story was mostly meant to make Udina happy and make him go away. It worked. The two men were now alone in the Normandy's comm room.

The older officer rubbed his crew cut, unsure exactly how to explain his history with the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius to the younger man.

"You want to know the truth, John? Long version, or short?"

The use of Shepard's first name was reserved only for those very close to him, and even then, only in serious situations. "It doesn't matter. I just want answers."

The Captain sighed, long and drawn-out. "Short version, then. I know Saren. We…worked together. Twenty years ago."

Shepard's shock was expected. "You worked with that backstabbing bastard?"

Anderson nodded. "Yeah, I did. We got stuck together when I was being considered as the first human Spectre. I don't want to downplay your achievements, Shepard, but being considered for that role only six years after first contact? Damn near unheard of."

The Commander nodded respectfully, and the Captain stood up, beginning to pace. "The pressure was immense. There was a lot of bad blood between us and the turians, and Saren…Saren was the most ardently anti-human son of a bitch I'd ever met."

To Shepard's surprise, Anderson pulled a small, ornate flask from the inside of his uniform and took a nip. "We were running an op on the batarian colony world of Camala, trying to rescue a human scientist that had been kidnapped by mercs working for a batarian eezo baron. She was being held in one of his refineries. Lots of civvies. The workers' families lived on-site, something to do with the batarian caste system. Anyway, the op went straight to hell…"

The Captain's eyes darkened, a look that Shepard had seldom seen in his mentor. Anderson took another swig from the flask.

"That bastard Saren did something. Triggered an explosion that destabilized the plant's power core. I don't know why he did it, but the whole place went up, way too fast…couldn't get the workers or their families out in time. Thousands died, Shepard."

Anderson was staring into the younger man's eyes. The Commander thought he saw the shimmer of tears welling up in the older officer.

"_Thousands. _It was a damn catastrophe. I still get bad dreams…the screams, the smoke, burning bodies everywhere…sounds familiar, doesn't it, Commander?" Anderson had a knowing smile, devoid of any humor or happiness.

"God…I'm sorry, Anderson…why didn't you tell me this before?" Shepard was at a loss. He knew the Captain and he shared many traits, but even so far as to share their own personal hell? The Commander began to feel selfish, thinking of all the times he'd wallowed in self-pity after Elysium.

_No, that was different. I had to send the woman I loved to her death, dammit._

"It wasn't something I thought you needed to know, especially after what you saw and did during the Blitz. I'm sorry if you feel betrayed, but the point I want to get across is this: Saren Arterius is a heartless, ruthless bastard who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He hates humans, too. The things he said about me and humans in general would be enough to make even a Palaven Prima party leader cringe…"

Anderson trailed off while Shepard sat silently. "Just watch your back out there, Commander. The Normandy's your girl now. I know you'll take good care of her, after all you've done to get her this far. Figure out what Saren wants with the "Conduit" and whether or not the Reapers really are a threat to the galaxy. I'll vouch for you, no matter what you find."

The Commander nodded, finding new resolve in his superior officer's implicit trust. He shook Anderson's hand and snapped his arm to his forehead in a neat salute. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down. I aim to bring that bastard's head back on a plate."

The Captain returned the salute and chuckled grimly. "I know you'll succeed, Shepard, but don't let the past cloud your judgment. I've been there, and it's an ugly place. Stay sharp, son. We're all pulling for you."

As Anderson left Shepard standing alone in the conference room, the Commander wondered if it really was as simple as that. _Don't let your past experiences haunt you…_

The new CO of the Normandy grunted. _Easy. Right._

* * *

_**Yeah, like I said, dense with dialogue. I hope you all feel like the characters are, well, in-character so far. Any input is greatly appreciated, as this is still very new territory for me, and I'd like to improve in any way possible. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, seeing as three fan-favorite characters were all kind of introduced. I'm going to be focusing on Shepard learning things about his new crew as they search the Artemis Tau cluster for a certain asari scientist in the next chapter. I will try to get Chapter 4 up in a week (2/10). Thanks for reading. Cheers!**  
_


	4. Chapter 4 - The Hunt for Doctor T'Soni 1

**Chapter 4 - The Hunt for Doctor T'Soni, Part 1  
**

_**SSV Normandy, in transit to Sharjila, Macedon System, Artemis Tau Cluster**_

_**1307 hours, 15.5.2183, Terran Coordinated Universal Time**_

"Ugh, fine. You want to hear a story, Shepard?" the large krogan grumbled, gripping a piece of his partially disassembled grenade launcher. The Commander had noted over the past two weeks that the grumpy merc spent an unhealthy amount of time with the oversized weapon, meticulously cleaning and fiddling with it in the Normandy's armory.

"Yeah, I do, Wrex. I'd like to know more about you, and the krogan in general." Shepard wasn't lying. He was genuinely intrigued by the race of warriors that had been deposed of their glory a millennia and a half ago.

"Why? We live. We fight. We die. That's how every krogan has done it for the past 4000 years_, _and that's never going to change…" Shepard noticed the faintest hint of sadness in Wrex's normally gruff voice. It was the first time he'd ever seen a krogan express such an emotion.

"But you really want to hear a story?" The merc set down what Shepard guessed to be the core housing of the weapon and turned around, facing the opposite wall of the combined armory/cargo area. When he spoke again, his voice boomed across the large, open area. Shepard was almost sure that even Joker could've heard him. "There was this one time where the turians almost completely sterilized our species and doomed us to a slow, painful extinction. That was hilarious, wasn't it, Vakarian?"

The turian police officer had taken a shine to the Normandy's auxiliary rapid deployment vehicle, the M-35 "Mako" IFV. A proprietary design belonging to the Rosenkov Materials Corporation, based in the New Russian Federation on Earth, the Mako was equipped with a 155 millimeter modular main gun that could be configured to fire a number of different types of ammunition. Garrus was particularly interested in this bit of tech. He had told Shepard that his job back in his Hierarchy Navy days had something to do with shipboard gun calibrations, but since the Normandy lacked a traditional mass accelerator main gun, the Commander had paid him no mind. In the two weeks Garrus had been on board, though, he had spent nearly all of his free time tinkering with the Mako's armaments.

Currently, the turian had his head buried somewhere in the body of the Mako via many of its removable panels, no doubt fine-tuning some aspect of the IFV's weapons. When Wrex's bellowing voice echoed through the cargo bay, mentioning the C-Sec officer's name, Garrus jumped in a predatory reaction to what sounded like a challenge. Unfortunately, he did not account for his surroundings, and had slammed his fringe right into the Mako's inner plating.

Shepard heard a loud _clang, _followed by a string of untranslatable turian dialogue. The Commander had banged his head on enough bulkheads, engine components, and tool benches in his time to understand Garrus' plight, and to know that the volley of strange sounds was likely a list of unspeakable curses directed towards any number of worlds, deities, or universes. The Commander couldn't help but laugh.

Wrex, never turning down an opportunity to revel in the misery of a turian, joined Shepard with a deep, throaty rumble that the Commander could feel in his feet. "Serves you right, you skinny bastard."

Garrus glared at the gloating krogan with contempt, but relented and retreated back into his work. Wrex turned back to Shepard, grin fading from the wide, toothy mouth. "The turians have done us no favors over the years, but that one…he's alright. He's got plates, that's for sure."

"Wrex, when you said the turians almost sterilized the krogan, what were you talking about? I've read something about the conflict between the krogan and the Council races, but I don't remember much in the way of detail."

Wrex grunted, and his demeanor growing dark. "A biological weapon called 'the genophage' was developed by the salarians and used by the turians in order to curb my people's growth and aggression. I'm no doctor, so I can't tell you how it works, but I've seen what it does…out of a thousand children born, only a few come out alive."

Shepard nodded solemnly, now remembering some of the details he had learned in his high school xenohistory classes. "That was the Council's response to the Krogan Rebellions, right?"

"Hmph. Yep. We save their asses from certain death at the claws of the rachni, they build us a statue, and then damn us to wither and die. That wasn't what killed the krogan, though. The genophage was just a deathblow to an already dying creature."

'I'm sorry, Wrex. I won't pretend to know what the krogan have dealt with. If you don't want to get into it, that's fine." The Commander shifted uneasily, not wanting to provoke the anger of an 800-pound killing machine. He had seen what Wrex could do with his bare hands in Chora's Den back on the Citadel's Kithoi Ward. _Fist's gang never stood a chance. Don't think I'll ever forget the sound of a krogan boot coming down on an unshielded human's head…_

"Sorry? Sorry isn't going to cut it, Shepard, but you don't owe me an apology. The krogan were doomed long before the salarians found us. Nothing you or I can do about it. You want to hear more, come back when I'm not so pissed off."

The Commander was relieved knowing his head wasn't going to be mashed into a pulp under the krogan's heavy foot. He simply nodded at the man. "Wrex."

The red-plated krogan nodded back. "Shepard."

The terse exchange marked the end of their conversation, so Shepard turned around, heading towards the Mako. He could still see Garrus' legs dangling over the side of the vehicle, wrapped in blue C-Sec fatigues cut for a turian form.

As the Commander approached, he could hear Garrus muttering to himself, no doubt struggling with his ceaseless pursuit of perfecting the performance of the Mako's arms. Shepard rapped his fist on the hull of the IFV, calling for the turian's attention.

"Garrus, got a minute? I doubt the Mako is going anywhere." The C-Sec officer emerged from the bowels of the machine, covered in the grease Shepard was all too familiar with.

"Sure, Commander. I was just fiddling with the coaxial turret's redundancy systems. If a geth tries to disable the Mako's weapons when we're out on deployment, I want to make sure they're not going to succeed. Being trapped in an immobile metal box with a bunch of spiritless robots gunning for us doesn't sound like my idea of fun."

Shepard let out a soft chuckle at the turian's sarcasm. _Joker and Garrus were made for each other. Or maybe they'd hate each other. That'd be a quick fight._

Garrus hopped down from his perch on the Mako's midsection, landing on the deck plating with a loud _clang. _The man had a good six inches on Shepard, with much broader shoulders to boot. His slender, three fingered hands ended in sharp talon-like protrusions, gripping a scanner attachment for his omni-tool. His predatory pale blue eyes always seemed to pierce Shepard, almost as if he was sizing the Commander up for a fight. _He'd probably win, too. I don't know squat about turian hand-to-hand techniques, or even where to hit back. Those plates look painful to punch._

Shepard curbed his thoughts before they wandered too far away. "I wanted to ask you; did you get cleared by Executor Pallin to come with us? I don't want you to get in trouble for dereliction of duty or anything. We've been out from the Citadel for almost two galactic standard weeks, and I doubt we're going to find this Dr. T'Soni anytime soon."

The turian seemed to bristle as he turned away from Shepard, glancing off to the side at the featureless bulkhead of the cargo bay. He cleared his throat with a raspy choking sound. "Well, you see, Commander I, uhh…" Garrus was uncomfortable, that much was clear. He was almost like a child that had been caught doing something he shouldn't be.

"You what?" Shepard arched his brow expectantly.

"I quit. C-Sec, I mean. I handed Pallin my resignation before we left the Citadel. I wanted to be able to commit completely to hunting down Saren." Garrus sounded ashamed, Shepard thought.

"I appreciate the dedication, Garrus, but quitting? Couldn't you have just asked for extended leave or something like that? Being a turian and a cop, I figured Pallin would want to see Saren brought in just as much as you."

Garrus rocked his head from side to side and spread his mandibles wide. Shepard guessed that this was the turian equivalent of shaking one's head "no". "It's not that simple, Commander. Joining up to stop Saren wasn't what really caused me to quit the force. It was…just the push over the edge I needed."

Shepard furrowed his brow and crossed his arms in suspicion. "The push over the edge? You weren't happy with C-Sec?"

"I…always felt tied down. I wanted to bring criminals to justice, Shepard. Despite its clean and civilized appearance, the Citadel is a fairly nasty place. You saw what it was like down in the wards. Armed mercenaries stalking the halls, opening fire regardless of the potential casualties. Corruption runs rampantly throughout the ward-level governments. Officials take bribes and turn blind eyes from drug trade, illegal tech sales, even slavery. Hells, there's a lot of C-Sec officers who are just as dirty. You met Harkin in Chora's Den. That bastard was rotten to his core. I did the best I could, Shepard, but for every bad guy you lock up, two more come to the surface to take his place." The turian paced back and forth and waved his hands back and forth with righteous anger as his voice steadily climbed with his ongoing rant.

"I was fed up with being told to follow the rules. The people we go after don't follow theirs, why should I be forced to follow mine? Cons get out of jail as quickly as they go in. Citadel government is way too lax when it comes to criminal justice. I just…when Pallin shut down my investigation into Saren, that was more than I could handle."

The Commander gave the frustrated man a stern look, stepping forward aggressively. Invading someone's personal space to get a point across effectively was one of the first things Shepard had learned from his drill instructor in basic training.

"I understand what you're getting at, Garrus. No justice system is perfect. Those rules exist for a reason, though. Gunning down every person you think is a criminal has its repercussions. If you start operating under that kind of doctrine, you're no better than the people you're shooting in the first place. The galaxy isn't painted in black and white. You've got to accept that."

The turian grunted in indignation. "I thought you'd understand, Shepard. You're a Council Spectre now. You don't have a code of conduct holding you back. You're allowed to do whatever you deem necessary to bring Saren to justice." He shifted uncomfortably as silence fell on the two men. The Commander's unblinking gaze was set dead on Garrus' eyes long enough to be slightly unsettling.

"Just because I can do whatever I want doesn't mean I will. Stopping Saren from bringing back the Reapers doesn't have to compromise who I am!"

Garrus returned the Commander's cold stare. "No, Shepard. It doesn't. But it might."

The heated exchange came to an abrupt conclusion. Shepard was surprised at his own reaction to Garrus' words. He knew that he'd been on edge ever since the attack on Eden Prime, but he hadn't expected to lose his cool quite so easily. He clenched his hands into fists and released. _Get a damn grip, soldier._

Wordlessly, the Commander turned away from the still staring turian. The two of them had definitely got off on the wrong foot. Shepard's first impression of Garrus was that of a dedicated and keen officer of the law. Those feelings vanished at their second meeting, when Garrus had taken a reckless, albeit precise, shot at a thug holding a doctor hostage back on the wards. It was a clean kill, but the innocent young woman was standing too close for comfort. Shepard wondered if he would have problems with Garrus following his orders when a tense combat situation inevitably arose.

He shelved his thoughts for the time being and made his way to the drive core sitting in the aft of the vessel. The low, persistent thrum of a ship's propulsion system always helped the engineer relax, and he was particularly agitated after the argument with his new crewmate. The automated door opened automatically as he approached, allowing a soft blue glow to wash over him.

He approached a bank of holographic computer consoles that served as monitoring equipment, providing the small engineering crew with real-time figures for the numerous critical systems that kept the Normandy flying. Shepard scanned the room, attempting to find his Chief Engineer, junior grade Lieutenant Gregory Adams. There were two crewman huddled together by one of the consoles, conversing about the stealth system's repercussions on the strength of kinetic barriers. They were the only two humans in the entire room.

Instead of finding Adams at the Chief Engineer's personal console, he instead found a woman in a purple environmental suit. She was interfacing her omni-tool with the command console, streams of data flicking across both the screen in front of her and the screen hovering over her left arm. He walked up and tapped her on the shoulder. "Tali?"

The quarian let out a cry of surprise and whirled around to face the Normandy's CO, bright eyes wide. "Ah! Uh- Commander Shepard, hello! W-what are you doing down here? I wasn't doing- uh, I was just trying to optimize drive core output on Lieutenant Adams' console, I wasn-"

Shepard cut her off, raising his hand and grinning. "Relax, Tali, you're not in trouble for using the command console. Adams cleared it with me right after you came on board. I just wanted to know where he was."

"Oh, right, of course…ah, well, Lieutenant Adams said he was going to 'chow'. I don't know what that means, but he said he would be back soon." Tali's hands were clasped together firmly at her waist, her six long fingers squirming with discomfort. Shepard smiled inwardly at the oddly human habit.

"I see. Well, I can wait for him a little while. What were you working on, exactly?" Shepard hoped changing the subject would help her calm down. He certainly needed a respite after his vitriolic discussion with Garrus, and going over some engine specs was always a great remedy for the engineer's distress.

The quarian's omni-tool reactivated instantly as she gestured with her other hand at the projected screen. "Oh, this? I was running some diagnostics on the archived data from the Normandy's mission on Eden Prime. Running the stealth system while in atmosphere caused some odd power fluctuations. I don't think your engineers really considered the possibility of using the IES system anywhere other than space." Shepard's ploy seemed to do the trick. He smirked. _We engineers are predictable, I guess._

"That seems likely. It's not like the Normandy becomes invisible when the stealth system's on, though. All you have to do to see us planetside is look up."

Tali nodded in agreement at the achingly obvious statement. "True, Commander, but considering the apparent skill of your pilot, you could make stealthy approaches in atmosphere by flying low with the IES system engaged. But, because of the added atmospheric resistance, the core works harder than intended, and spikes a little too high for comfort. Here, look." She held up her omni-tool for Shepard. He inspected the charts and graphs from their shakedown-gone-wrong.

"Hmm…yeah, I see what you mean. You think we could divert power away from other systems to account for the imbalance? Maybe pull it from environmental control? Worst-case scenario, we could just open up the bay door to let some air in." Shepard was only half-joking. The last thing he wanted was the 120 billion-credit element zero core of the Normandy to malfunction; or, worse, detonate, in the middle of a mission in atmo.

Tali chuckled at the Commander's proposition. "That'd be fine for planets with a breathable atmosphere, but there's plenty of worlds without oxygen and nitrogen in their skies. Besides, I don't think Garrus or Wrex would appreciate getting blown into the cargo hold's walls at 100 knots. No, I think we can draw away enough power from non-critical systems. I just have to run some more diagnostics to make sure my reprogramming won't blow something up."

She pressed a few buttons on her omni-tool, and typed out a command on the console behind her. A progress bar popped up on both screens, and Tali turned back to Shepard. "So, Commander…did you need anything else?"

"You know, we haven't really talked since we left the Citadel. I've been meaning to ask you some questions about you and your people. Like I said, I don't really know much about the quarians."

"Oh, uh- really? I mean, I would gladly tell you anything you'd like to know! Sorry, I'm just…not used to people being interested in quarians in general. Most see us as pests at best, criminals at worst…"

Shepard nodded his head, his mouth becoming a solemn, flat line. "Yeah, I remember what Garrus said back on the Citadel. Sorry I got angry. I was just surprised that such an advanced star-spanning civilization could still have such backwards prejudices."

Tali's helmeted head tilted downward, eyes disappearing from Shepard's view. When she spoke again, her tone was less than enthusiastic. "Well…it's extremely complicated. Don't misunderstand; we quarians still hold much animosity towards the Council races for abandoning us in the Geth Uprising. Our people were almost wiped out while the asari, turians and salarians just sat back and watched! Billions died at the hands of the geth, Shepard…now, there's only 17 million quarians left…" As she explained the plight of her race, her tone ranged from shame to rage, ending in sadness as her words drifted off into silence.

"I'm sorry, Tali. I read about the geth war in xenohistory back when I was a kid. For what it's worth, I think humanity would've stepped in to help had we been spacefaring back then. We hadn't even figured out atmospheric flight at the time…" Shepard realized, staring at the veiled top portion of the quarian woman's helmet, that he would never fully understand the quarians' situation. _Ninety-nine percent of their population wiped out, only to be abandoned by the Council…and they had good relations with the galactic government for hundreds of years. What hope does humanity have at winning any kind of support against Saren and the geth?_

Tali laughed humorlessly, sighing as she finished. "That's just it, Shepard…humans have accomplished so much in such a small amount of time. We would've considered you primitive before we were exiled from our own worlds by our creations. Now, we've been roaming the stars aimlessly for 260 galactic years…and I'm standing in a cutting-edge frigate partially developed and operated by a race that only discovered the Citadel less than 25 years ago. It's both impressive and…saddening."

Shepard extended his arm and gripped the downtrodden quarian's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Tali. We're going to beat Saren. We'll beat the geth. Who knows, maybe someday soon you'll get to see your homeworld." As soon as he said it, he realized how stupid and bold a claim that was, as if there was anything he could do to back up his words. _Way to go, John._

Tali's gaze met Shepard's as she lifted her head back up. "You sound just like my father. Ever since I was a young girl, he'd always promise my mother and I that he'd 'build us a house on the homeworld'. I learned long ago that it was a hollow promise, but…thank you for trying to help me feel better, Shepard."

Realizing that he had somehow guided the conversation right into sensitive territory, he tried to redeem himself by immediately changing the subject. "How're you adjusting to the Normandy? Wrex and Garrus seem to be doing well enough, except for the part where they hate each other."

Tali laughed softly again, a light, warm laugh that brought relief to Shepard. _Already oh-for-two with the new crew. At least I won't piss them all off today. _"Like I said before, this ship is incredible, Commander. All of the technology that went into building the Normandy is fascinating. I've learned a lot these past weeks, and your crew has been surprisingly helpful and accepting to me. I'm not used to being treated as an equal outside of the Flotilla…but it's good here. I do miss home, though…"

"I know what you mean. The first time I left my home vessel for an extended period of time was when I enlisted in the Alliance Navy at 18. That was 11 years ago, and I still haven't seen her since then."

"You were space-born? You grew up on a ship?" The quarian seemed surprised at the revelation that Shepard was a spacer.

"Well, technically I grew up on a space station, but I spent a lot of time in and around starships. My parents were both military. I was born on Arcturus Station, and spent some of my childhood on various military and civilian vessels. Dad was a propulsion engineer. He taught me to love the inner workings of starships. Every time we'd get on a new ship, I'd always find my way to the drive core. Kind of like right now, actually." Shepard smiled as memories from his youth floated abstractly around his mind.

"What about your mother? What did she do?" The Commander found that his initial plan to learn more about his new quarian engineer had been turned around on him rather swiftly.

"My mother was a cyberwarfare technician. She was one of the best in the whole navy. She went through N-school like I did, but she only got as far as N4. Still, she impressed enough people and got promoted pretty high. She's the XO on the _SSV Kilimanjaro, _the biggest and best dreadnought we have."

"Seems like your entire family has an impressive credentials, Commander. You didn't say where your father was, though. Oh, no, I mean, not to pry or anything, I just-"

Shepard shook his head and cut in before she could finish. "It's OK, Tali. Truth is, I don't know if he's alive or not. He went missing on a mission eight years ago. The details were classified by the Alliance. No clue what actually happened to him. I finished mourning him a long time ago, though."

The quarian nodded sympathetically. "Even so, I'm sorry to hear that. My mother died six years ago. There was a small viral outbreak on the Rayya, and she was one of the first to be infected. They couldn't treat her in time. Our immune systems being what they are, any foreign contaminant can kill us before we even get a chance to find treatment. Like you, though, I finished mourning her years ago."

"Sorry, Tali. Must've been hard. How about your father?"

As Shepard's sentence finished, the drive core shuddered, and the loud, steady hum died down to an almost-imperceptible level. _We must've just dropped out of FTL._

Tali glanced back to Shepard after the momentary distraction, and spoke with hesitation. "He…uh, well, he's an Admiral."

"No kidding? That must've been fun. I've met a few Admirals in my day, and if humans are any indication, high-ranking officers aren't the most agreeable people in the galaxy."

Shepard's sarcasm wasn't lost on Tali. "Yes, you could say that. He wasn't around a lot when I was young. After my mother died, he tried, but his duties to the Fleet always took priority. For quarians, Admiralty is more than just command of a flotilla. Our people are still technically under martial law, so the five Admirals of the Fleet make political decisions as well as military ones."

"Sounds like a lot to live up to," Shepard said all too dryly.

"Yeah…it wasn't easy. It still isn't. As the daughter of the Admiral, I can't just bring back any Pilgrimage gift. It's a lot of pressure…" The young woman's head sunk again.

"Don't worry, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. You're obviously intelligent and talented. I'm glad you're aboard. We might even try to find you something good to bring back to the Fleet." Shepard was, perhaps, trying a bit too hard to cheer her up, but he couldn't help it. He saw a lot of himself in her. _Military family, dead parent, the weight of our entire species on our shoulders…hell of an engineer, too._

"Thanks, Shepard. I appreciate the opportunity to serve on the Normandy more than you know. I know we'll stop Saren and the geth, and mayb-"

"_Commander, we've got something on our scanners that, for once, isn't a pile of rocks. Looks like a small mining camp. Now quit fiddling with my baby's core output and get up here. Uh, sir." _It was Joker's voice blaring over the shipwide intercom.

Shepard was moving before Joker had even finished speaking, and Tali quickly saved her work and followed the Commander out of engineering. Shepard opened his omni-tool up to relay his own message on the Normandy's comm system. "Ground team, get down to Deck 3, report to Lieutenant Alenko and get geared up. We're moving as soon as I know the situation on the ground."

* * *

In less than a minute, the Commander had made his way to the cockpit, standing over Joker's shoulder while reading the data from the Normandy's scanners.

"It's called 'Sharjila'. Gravity's at point-nine-gee, surface temp around the camp is hovering around 22 C. Sounds like a lovely place to be, Commander. Oh, except for the crushing high-pressure ammonia-oxygen atmosphere."

The Commander seemed to frown more than he smiled at Joker's sarcasm, no doubt granting the pilot an intense amount of satisfaction. Shepard stared at the readouts of the boring, brown-red planet they now orbited.

Joker rubbed his stubble and read from the holographic screens that glared bright orange in front of him. "LADAR shows only two pre-fab buildings and a small vessel. Draven's EM readings say the ship and one pre-fab is cold. Problem is, they're not broadcasting any IFF signals. I'm not sure anyone's even home."

"I'm pretty sure these are asari-made pre-fabs. This could be Doctor T'Soni's research lab. Remember, we're in the Traverse; there's a hell of a lot of pirates and slavers out here. Explains why she wouldn't want to broadcast her team's location."

Joker tilted one eyebrow as he looked at the Commander. "Sure, Shepard, I get that. You've gotta ask yourself, though; prothean ruins on a high-pressure world in the ass-end of nowhere? I guess anything's possible, but I wouldn't go knocking on that door down there with a fruit basket and champagne if I were you."

Shepard knew he was right. Innocuous enough, but out in uncharted Attican Traverse space, one should never take any unnecessary risks. "Alright. Let's do a low-atmo Mako insertion. If I remember correctly, our bay can handle up to 120 bar pressure. 36 is child's play. Take us in one klick out, drop us behind this ridge. Nice and slow."

Joker snorted derisively. "Aye aye, sir. Nice and slow. Don't worry, I won't make Kaidan wet his hardsuit. I bet those are a real bitch to clean out."

The Commander paid his Flight Lieutenant's irreverence no mind, and was back in the armory section of the Normandy's cargo bay in another minute. His ground team was already assembled by the Mako, all of them wearing hardsuits to protect them from the poisonous atmosphere and crushing pressure. Shepard went through the motions of putting on his hardsuit with the effortless efficiency of a career soldier.

By the time the Normandy broke into Sharjila's atmosphere, he was already making the final inspections of his weapon, a specially-commissioned Lieberschaft 2180 shotgun, designated by the Alliance as the M-22 Eviscerator. Officially declared illegal for infantry use in Citadel space, the Alliance quietly equipped its N Operatives active in the Traverse with the deadly weapon. Shepard's particular Eviscerator was designated as M-22/N7a, the special suffix denoting several modifications not available to civilian market weapons. Of particular note was a narrower conduction rail set, archaically called a "choke", which tightened the bullet spread of the already-accurate shotgun, increasing its effective range by a significant margin. The M-22/N7a also featured a more energetic accelerator core, allowing a higher muzzle velocity, and a specially-treated tungsten ammunition block that ignited when launched from the shotgun. A fearsome weapon for a fearsome warrior.

Satisfied with the state of his main armament, it was time for Shepard to brief his ground team on the situation they faced. "Listen up, team. We've got what looks like a small asari science outpost. No IFF broadcast to indicate the owner or occupants, though, so stay sharp. We're in uncharted space, so who knows what we might find. We'll drop a klick out in the Mako to make a covert ground approach. When we get close, I want Alenko and Tali'Zorah on ECM duty, and if we have to exit the vehicle, to man the weapons. We'll try to identify who, if anyone, is sitting inside the main building. Williams, Wrex and Vakarian will be with me. If hostile, we'll breach and clear the whole place. We can't afford a mistake. One suit breach, and you're dead in this high pressure. We move fast, tight and together, we'll all make it out alive. Clear?"

A chorus of affirmation greeted Shepard's brief, and one by one, the ground team crawled into the cramped infantry fighting vehicle. Shepard took the helm, flicking various switches and buttons to initiate the startup sequence.

A medley of electronic sounds filled the air, replaced with a click and whine as the Mako's hydrogen-oxygen fuel cell began generating power. "All systems check out, Joker. We're ready to drop."

"Aye, Commander. Cargo bay is sealed and crew is clear, beginning pressurization now."

Shepard smirked inwardly. _Joker's a smartass, but all business when it counts. Maybe I don't hate him._

The loudness of the environment cyclers was muffled by the Mako's thick hull, but the sound was still somewhere between unbearable and deafening. After thirty seconds, Joker's voice filled the Commander's ear once again. "Pressure equalization complete. Opening bay door, get ready to drop on my mark."

The air cyclers' noise had nothing on the sound of Sharjila's atmosphere rushing into the Normandy's now-exposed cargo bay, buffeting the Mako severely, despite the sturdy wheel locks holding them in place. Shepard may have been a seasoned soldier with nerves of still, but air drops always made him nervous. He primed the retro-thrusters.

"Five…four…three…"

_If I die on this worthless rock, I'm going to kill Anderson for not giving us a goddamn Kodiak. _He disengaged the wheel locks.

"…two…one…mark."

Shepard smoothly but quickly pushed the accelerator to full and engaged the retro-thrusters while the mass effect core of the Mako automatically adjusted using built-in gravitational, atmospheric and wind speed sensors to make their landing as light as possible. The Commander's stomach lurched as he felt a moment of weightlessness as they plunged from the gaping maw of the Normandy. The viewscreen showed the proud SR-1 blasting away through the thick brown atmosphere. Rocky, reddish earth lay below.

Tali gasped, no doubt unfamiliar with such a thing as an airborne IFV drop. Wrex chuckled upon hearing her vocalized discomfort. "What's the matter, quarian? Hope you don't hurl in your bucket; that'd be pretty disgusting, huh?"

The insult did not distract the woman from what she believed to be certain death. All eyes were fixed on the forward camera's monitor, Sharjila's dusty ground rushing towards them. The Mako shuddered violently as wind shear tried to knock the vehicle off course, but the aerodynamic design and powerful mass effect core kept her flying true. Shepard prepared himself for the inevitable jarring impact.

* * *

The IFV had landed without a hitch. After Shepard had collected his nerves and performed a cursory systems re-check, the Mako droned off towards the mysterious asari compound.

The crew remained silent for most of the journey, an occasional cough or throat-clearing breaking through the otherwise persistent whine of the engine. _This is the first time we're all together as a squad, _Shepard thought. _Let's hope we all get through this together._

The Mako's navigation system VI calmly informed the squad that they were 200 meters from their flagged destination. The pre-fabs were not yet in sight, hidden just behind a craggy rock formation to the southwest. Shepard eased the M-35 to a stop and turned back to talk to his crew, despite their helmet comms all being linked together.

"Tali, Kaidan. Pull up your omni-tools and scan for any comm traffic. Tap in and see what you can find."

The Lieutenant and the quarian both nodded in unison and began their scans. Less than 15 seconds had passed when Tali piped up. "Commander, I've got a positive on comm traffic. It's coming from the structure. Patching us in."

There was a brief crackle, followed by an angry asari voice.

"_-ot going to stop my business just because of your uptight blue ass."_

"_Do you have any idea what it would do to the Dantius family name if you were apprehended? My career, Hellia's career, would be ruined."_

"_Well, too _fucking _bad, Nassana. I don't give a vorcha's ass about 'our' family name. I make good money slaving in the Traverse; hells, I probably made more money off of two days in the Blitz than you've made in the past five years. I'm making a name for myself, not riding on the coattails of our mother like you."_

"…_you bitch. You'll regret turning down my offer of amnesty when your false pretense of importance comes crashing down on your empty head. I'm a powerful woman on the Citadel. I have the power to sway Spectres. I'll show you what a real Dantius can do."_

The unnamed woman laughed vigorously. _"You're going to send a Spectre after me? Tell you what; how about I just capture the bastard and sell him off to a batarian eezo mine? Just try me, Nassana. You don't have the frills."_

The line went dead. Garrus immediately spoke up. "Nassana Dantius is a familiar name. She's an asari diplomat. C-Sec was suspicious that she had ties to some shady business in the Terminus and the Traverse. Guess this proves us right."

Wrex replied in his usual gruff voice. "Not really. Only proves she has a sister who's dirty. I know, I'm a merc, but I never touched slaving. Dirty business. Any warrior worth his hide would stay far away from that."

It was only Kaidan and Ashley that noticed the dark look that swept across Shepard's face at the mention of slaving and the Skyllian Blitz. Alenko gently touched the Commander's shoulder. "You alright, Commander? I know she sai-"

In an instant, Shepard straightened up in his seat and gripped the Mako's controls tightly, knuckles turning white underneath his plated gauntlets. The sudden movement caused Kaidan to jump slightly, pulling his arm away. Shepard's voice was monotone and dead serious. "Alenko, prime the main gun. Set the shaver for shaped-charge armor penetration. Tali, prime the autocannon. We're pulling right up to their front door. Anybody comes out, you cut them down. These people are slavers, and as a Council Spectre, it's my duty to put them down. Those are my orders."

The two exchanged a nervous glance, but both responded with an "aye aye". Kaidan shifted nervously in his seat, while Tali gulped back a knot in her throat. The Commander seemed to transform into a completely different man after the short exchange she hacked into.

Shepard indelicately slammed the Mako's throttle to its maximum forward setting, rounding the rock formation and coming nose-to-door with the EM-hot structure. Asari construction was magnificent, with sweeping curves and graceful lines enhancing the beauty of their architecture. A great amount of work went into their pre-fabs as well, obvious to the crew who now stared at the building through the main screen.

Shepard had parked the Mako some 15 meters from the construct. His face was still plastered in a deep scowl, and he barked a single command to his Lieutenant. "Open fire on my mark."

"Aye, sir." The Commander pulled up his omni-tool, which was interfaced with the Mako's on-board computers. Using the IFV as a signal booster, he quickly hacked through the slaver base's flimsy firewalls, gaining root access to the building's various systems. He read them off in his mind as he identified them. _Environmental control. Temperature regulation. Oxygen recycling. Emergency lockdown. Kinetic barriers._

The last one was the system he was looking for. A few more commands were entered into his omni-tools holographic interface, and a visible blue crackle briefly surrounded the building as its protective barriers lost power and went offline.

The grimace never left Shepard's face. "Fire."

The vehicle shuddered as the 155mm cannon loosed its first projectile at a not-insignificant fraction of the speed of light. The round had been shaped by on-the-fly metal shavers within the housing of the cannon to penetrate medium-to-heavy armor rather than flatten to cause the maximum energy dispersal to the target. The mass-accelerated round had been aimed squarely at the building's airlock, and without kinetic barriers to protect it, the projectile punched a clean hole straight through the door.

Because the hole that exposed the interior to Sharjila's high-pressure atmosphere wasn't very large, the pressurization was not instantaneous. Dust swirled around the impact hole, being sucked rapidly into the building. Shepard's omni-tool beeped, alerting him that a catastrophic compression event had occurred within the structure. He could imagine the grisly scene in his head, the unarmored body of the slaver being crushed under the immense air pressure, a nearly bloodless death.

_That piece of trash deserves worse than that, _the Commander thought. He felt eyes drilling into the back of his head. "She was a slaver. She deserved to die. Especially for making a profit from the Blitz."

"Damn right, sir. No qualms here." It was Ashley. Shepard wasn't sure if she was happy that a slaver had died, or that a non-human had. He did not dignify her bravado with a response, merely stating, "Come on. Our doctor isn't here. Radio Joker for a pickup. Let's get off this rock."

* * *

**_Sorry for the slight delay. Life gets in the way sometimes. Hopefully this slightly longer chapter is to your liking. Again, I'd appreciate criticism, constructive or otherwise, just to get an idea of what to improve on. I'm thinking about dropping in a perspective-shift chapter every now and then, just to play around and make things a little more interesting. Mopey, regret-filled Shepard is old hat, I know, but how can you have an overly-dramatic story without a broken-winged hero? Anyway, I'll try to get Chapter 5 knocked out before the middle of next week (2/20). We'll see how that will go. Perhaps the introduction of the good doctor is in order? Until then, enjoy. Cheers!_**


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